Child Bride
by Campy Capybara
Summary: ::COMPLETE:: An answer to a WIKTT challenge. Severus and Hermione shares more than one lifetime... SS/HG
1. The Challenge

This is the challenge from WIKTT:  
  
The Basic Plot: Severus and Hermione are destined to be together. Their spirits continue to meet up in different time periods, courtesy of reincarnation, and are drawn to one another time and again.  
  
The Details: The story must contain at least three vignettes. Each vignette must take place in a different time period. All other details (setting, etc.) are up to you. In other words you could use, for example, ancient Greece and 15th century China or 13th century England and 16th century England. One of the vignettes must be set during the canon time period with both characters as we see them in cannon. It may be set either during or after Hermione's studies at Hogwarts. All vignettes must feature, at the very least, romantic tension between Severus and Hermione. At least one vignette must feature Severus and Hermione becoming a couple (secretly or openly) or confessing their feelings for one another (this 'confession' need not be verbal). Any rating. Any genre. Side plots involving other characters or pairings welcome. The basic personality of each character must stay consistent across time periods. All other characteristics (appearance, form, etc.) may change. You must pick a distinctive object or phrase that will appear in each vignette (i.e. a pink Cadillac, Hermione saying, "The price is wrong, bitch!"). For the purpose of this requirement, anachronistic items are welcome. The characters may realize or sense the reoccurring nature of events, but they don't need to do so. 


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:  **The characters from the Harry Potter universe in this story remain the property of JKR.

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Child Bride 

Chapter 1

"_Niang_," Zong Yi greeted his mother in the customary manner.

"Son," greeted Lady Jin Hong in return, with the smile of a mother's pride.  "Old heaven has eyes, my son, and today, you have brought glory to your family and ancestors!"

Flanked by her servant girls, Lady Jin Hong stood up and approached her son.  'The war has ravaged his features,' she noted, a mixed emotion of pride and pain warring in her heart.  'His eyes are still sharp, but it is clouded with sorrow.'  Mentally putting the misery aside, she blinked away her tears as she considered her son, whom she had not seen for five years.  "It has been a tough life for you, my son," she held his arms, "and I am glad the Emperor has allowed you to return to me for this little while."

"_Niang_," was all Zong Yi could say.  He had no other words for this reunion.  His triumphant return from the war that ravaged his country was a mixed victory won by the lives of many men in his charge.  Men who had fought bravely against the enemy.  Men who had given their lives in loyalty to the Emperor and country.  They would never return to receive their due rewards – unlike Zong Yi, the General in charge of the West defence.  The innumerable accolades of Zong Yi's bravery, cunning military strategies and sheer determination against the barbarians were regaled in the country far and wide.  Even the Emperor bestowed on him riches and titles, and had even charged his ministers to choose a wife for him amongst the titled families of the land.

The reunion of mother and son soon lapse into tears.  Lady Jin Hong condensed five years of family history into a short account for her son.  "_Die_ died a month after you left for the frontlines.  Your sisters have all since married.  Only you, my son, I worry about you constantly.  Thank heaven for answering my prayers and bringing you home.  Now, my son, it is time for you to settle down and raise a family."

"_Niang_," sighed Zong Yi with a wry smile, "couldn't you wait a day or two before broaching this topic?  I'm sure my sisters have satisfied you with enough grandchildren."  He teased her gently.

"Oh, those grandchildren are not mine!" she cried empathically.  "_jia ji sui ji, jia gou sui gou_!  Your sisters belong to the families they married, so their children naturally belong to their in-laws!  You, on the other hand, are the sole heir of the Wei family name.  It is your duty to pass the name on."

"Yes, _niang_," he nodded, resigned.  The strategist in him smiled wryly at the battle he knew he would not be able to win against this frail-looking woman.

"The Emperor's edict has settled that you'll be wed on the 8th of next month.  That's only two weeks away.  I've hired Madam Zhuo to organise the event.  Apparently my future daughter-in-law is one of the fairest young ladies in the land.  Lady Feng Ling has even seen her, and she says that the young lady is obedient and accomplished.  More importantly, Feng Ling says that she looks sturdy – she will bear many children," the excited woman gushed.

"_Niang_, I'll leave the preparations up to you," he shook his head with a grin.  'Trust his mother to see the important factors of choosing a bride,' he snorted mentally.  "I'm going out now to meet my friends and won't be back until late tonight."

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Wei Zong Yi entered into the Emperor's services when he turned 18.  He was _wen wu xuang quan_ – a scholar and a warrior.  From a reputable family, and he was given opportunities which he was quick to seize and build upon.  Due to his diligence and cunning, he rose steadily throught the ranks of the Emperor's army.  At 22, he was promoted to the rank of Lieutenant, with a platoon of 100 men under him.

A week after his promotion, his _niang_ dragged him to the Central Temple to thank the gods for their blessing.  Whilst waiting for his mother who was accosted by her friends for a chat, Zong Yi walked along the many stalls selling incense, joss sticks and other paraphernalia used for worshipping.

A sign above a table drew his notice.  An old man, with sparkling black eyes sat underneath the sign, stroking his snowy white beard.  Intrigued by the knowing smile the venerable man gave him, Zong Yi moved towards the empty chair opposite the old man and sat down.

"Ah!  Heaven's will!" the old man said, smiling, "We are fated to meet, young man.  It's all heaven's will – and no one can escape their destiny."

"I beg to differ, old man.  I believe that we make our own destiny."

"You are young, and there is much you still don't know.  I can clearly see from your forehead, eyes and nose that you will meet grave danger and hardships.  Yours will not be an easy life."

The young man smiled wanly at the _Xiang Shi's_ prediction, "Yes, what you say is vague enough.  Hard times has come to our country, and is expected only to get worse.  _Everyone_ will have to face danger and hardship."

"Ah, but only _you_ will see a despair and loneliness unlike any other.  You are destined to suffer a desolate loneliness for three lifetimes, but in your third, you will be saved by _tao hua yun_."  The sparkle in the old man's eyes turned serious.  "Let me see your palm."

Zong Yi placed his palm up on the cushion on the table.

The old man stared at it, tsked, and shook his head, "Just as I suspected.  It is confirmed in the palm of your hands.  You will be lauded by men far and wide for your scholarly brilliance.  But few will know and appreciate your sacrifice in battle.  In this lifetime, at least, you might come into a short happiness, but it is fleeting."  He shook his head sadly.

The old man looked up again and stared into the younger man's eyes, and nodded, sagely.  Zong Yi was sobered by the old man's prediction, and his eyes reflected this.

"Can I have your birth numbers?  I'm curious about something…" the old man's twinkling eyes lit up again.

Zong Yi wrote the information using the brush and ink on the table, silently.

"Yes, good strokes.  Your penmanship tells a lot about you, young man.  A true scholar.  Now, let's see…" the old man moved the numbers through an ancient abacus on his table.  "Curious…" he muttered to himself, almost inaudibly.  "Now, I know I've just seen this…"

Suddenly, the old man looked up with a beatific smile, eyes sparkling with mirth and knowledge.  "I knew I just saw the matching birth numbers!  It's heaven's will!  You are fated to meet up with her today!  It has been foretold!"

Zong Yi was startled and confused at the change in the old man's emotions.  Who was he to meet?  He was beginning to think that the old man was senile and sprouting nonsense.

"_Xiang shi_," he smiled at the excited old man, "I'm confused by you.  I do not understand.  Who is this person you are talking about?"

"Your wife!" exclaimed the old man.

"My wife?" asked Zong Yi incredulously.

"Yes.  It's in the numbers.  She was here just before you came.  She should be somewhere on the temple grounds…"

Zong Yi's curiosity was aroused, even if he doubted the old man's sanity.  Who was this lady that was fated to be his wife?  What did she look like?  The Central Temple was crowded today, it being a feast day, and there were many people about.  Would he even be able to meet up with her at all?  Would he recognise her?

"Yes," the old man's thoughtful voice broke Zong Yi's reverie.  "According to my calculations, you should be able to see her soon.  Ah yes, there she is!" the old man pointed towards a lady who was just coming out of a recessed door, carrying a bawling baby.

Zong Yi turned towards the general direction and took in a deep breath.  The lady whom the old man pointed out was dressed like a merchant's wife.  'No doubt here to pray for prosperity,' he thought idly.  She was young – no more than 20 years old and pretty in a common way, but no beauty.

Suddenly, the lady opened her mouth, and the image changed drastically.  A shrewish shriek pierced the air, "Tao Xiang, you stop crying now!  Stop it!  Stop that noise!  Stop that bawling!"  The baby just wailed louder with her mother's harsh rebuke.  The noise had by now, attracted a small audience.  A passer-by, who happened to know the lady with the baby, ushered the mother and child towards the great Temple doors, saying, "_Aiyah_, Madam Chen, is little Tao Xiang unwell?  I've never seen her crying so bad before!  Is she hungry?"  Trying their best to hush the red-faced child, they crossed the threshold and out the Temple grounds.

The old man looked at Zong Yi surreptitiously for his reaction.

"That woman?" Zong Yi spluttered, "That shrew would be my wife?  And that annoying brat, my daughter?  Old man," he bit out harshly, "What are you about?  Are you making a fool of me?  What in heaven's name would _ever_ induce me to marry that woman?"

"Oh, I didn't say you'd be marrying that woman," smiled the old man enigmatically.

Zong Yi stared hard at the old man.

"The child she was carrying will be your wife."

Stunned, Zong Yi sat back on the chair and did not know how to respond.  He blinked uncomprehendingly.  That bawling brat?  That annoying wailer?  That red-faced little nothing?  To be the matriarch of the reputable Wei family?  The old man must be insane!

Angrily, Zong Yi stood up.  "I've heard enough of your nonsense, _Xiang Shi_!  Marry that red-faced brat!" he huffed, throwing down a few copper coins onto the table for the old man's services.

Striding, with his blue robes billowing behind him, he headed towards the area of the Temple where he had parted with his _niang_ to wait for her.  As his mother turned towards him, he saw the lady with the baby hurrying back into the Temple grounds to make a purchase at an incense stall.  Catching the eye of his manservant, he told the servant to tail the woman and find out more about the family.

Marry that child!  Ridiculous!

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The more Zong Yi thought about what the old man had said, the angrier he got.

'Desolation?  Loneliness for three lifetimes?  Madness!  And that ugly pug-like child to be his bride?  Ludicrous!  I am the master of my own destiny!  Am I just a puppet?  Heaven's will?' The thoughts ran round and round in his head, one thought chasing the other until Zong Yi was lost in a haze of confusion and ire.

In a pique of fury, he called for one of his trusted soldiers, a man who was skilled in warfare.  Giving the man details of the whereabouts of the Chen family, he charged the soldier to assassinate the mother and child.

TBC.

**Glossary:**

_Niang_ – Mother

Jin Hong – Gold Red

Zong Yi – Loyal Righteous

_Die_ – Father

_jia ji sui ji, jia gou sui gou_ – literally, "marry a chicken follow a chicken; marry a dog follow a dog".  It means that once the female marries, she no longer belongs to her family, but belongs to the husband's family.

_wen wu xuang quan_ – being capable in both the scholarly aspects as well as the martial arts aspects.

Feng Ling – Phoenix Bell

_Tao Hua Yun_ – Peach Blossom Blessing (or being lucky in love)

_Xiang Shi_ – Fortune Teller

Tao Xiang – Peach Fragrance

_Aiyah_ – Exclamation.  No meaning attached.

**A/N:  This part of the story was based on an actual Chinese folk story wherein a man tried to go against his destiny by killing a baby girl after a fortune teller told him that he would end up marrying her!**

Can you recognise all the characters in HP?  One chocolate frog for each correct character detected!  Put your answer into the review! *wink*

Also, this is not set in any particular time period.  I did not do enough research into this.  All I know about wuxia (martial arts) are what I watch on the telly.


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:  **The characters from the Harry Potter universe in this story remain the property of JKR.

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Child Bride 

Chapter 2

The Wei Manor was decorated resplendently with swathes of lucky red banners, as guests noisily participated in the wedding entourage.  Zong Yi, decked out in the auspicious red, waited for the _mei po_ to officiate the ceremony.

The accompanying cymbals, drums, _xuan na_ and firecrackers heralded the arrival of the bride.  The bride was then piggybacked on the _mei po_ into the Manor, and deposited beside the groom, who stood before the family altar.

"First, bow to the heavens and earth!" cried the shrill voice of the _mei po_, making sure that all the guests could hear her loud and clear.

The couple turned towards the altar of heaven and bowed low to the ground.

"Next, bow to the ancestors!"

The couple turned towards the altar where the tablets of the ancestors' names were kept and repeated the bow.

"Bow to your spouse!"

Zong Yi turned to his bride, who was veiled behind an elaborate headdress and a heavy silk scarf.  The bride was decked out in a red dress, heavily embroidered with a phoenix motif.  No doubt she had done the delicate embroidery herself.

The main ceremony completed, it was now time for the couple to offer tea to their elders.  The bride, who was still heavily veiled moved gracefully in front of her seated mother-in-law, knelt before her and offered her tea.  Before taking the tea from the girl in red, Lady Jin Hong smiled and proclaimed blessings over her.

"May your children and grandchildren fill to the rafters!  May you grow old with your husband!"

The bride made no reply, as was customary, and so the ceremony went on until all the Elders of the Wei clan had been served tea.

By then, the guests were moved to the grand dining hall, where a magnificent feast was served.  The bride, still veiled and unseen by all, was led by the _mei po_ to the bridal chambers, which was also draped in red.  After receiving the congratulations of some of his more distinguished guests, Zong Yi, too, left the dining hall and proceeded to the bridal chamber.

The bride, still veiled, sat demurely on the edge of the large bed, which was set into the wall of the chamber.  The red curtains on the bed were pulled to the two posts fronting it, framing the girl.  Zong Yi was struck by the picture of his bride – a woman he had never laid his eyes on – seated there framed by the curtains.

He moved to the table set in the centre of the chamber and poured himself a cup of sweet wine.  Fortifying himself with the drink, turned to look at the red-clad girl, who sat as still as a statute.  A gold rod was on the table beside the flask of wine, which he picked up.  He walked over to the bed, and sat by the girl.

"_Niang Zi_," he whispered to the red veil.

Using the golden rod, he carefully lifted the veil of the virgin bride.  The bride adverted her eyes from the man who was her husband and blushed prettily.

Removing the veil completely, he gazed at the face of his young wife.

'Beautiful!' his heart whispered.  'A celestial fairy has descended among us mere mortals!'

He gently cupped her chin, and turned her to face him, tracing her fine features with his eyes.  She gave him an unsure smile, head still bowed, not daring to look into the face of her husband.  Of course she had heard all about General Wei Zong Yi.  He was the man who saved the Kingdom from the marauding barbarians from the west, and had banished them all away!

Shyly, she peeked up at Zong Yi from under her long eyelashes.  "_Xiang Gong_," she whispered timidly in greeting to her husband.

Zong Yi's heart soared!  Such bell-like tones!  Such melodious syllables!

He grinned foolishly at his young bride, and kissed her gently.  Turning to extinguish the oil lamp on the bedside table, he returned to the happy task of consummating his marriage.

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"_Niang Zi_, look," Zong Yi smiled at Tao Hua, as he pointed to the ducks flying in a V-formation overhead.  She turned her gaze skywards to trace the paths of the ducks.  The newly wedded couple were walking through the Wei Manor Pleasure Gardens.

In all his 39 years on earth, Zong Yi had never known such simple pleasures, peace and contentment.  Since joining the Imperial army at 18, Zong Yi's life was one fraught with battles, many a times living from one day to the next, surviving.  He had lost many worthy heroes and sworn brothers in the Imperial army, fighting in the deserts out on the harsh western frontiers.  It was only heaven's grace that allowed him this short furlough into civilian life, allowing him to fulfil a son's duty by marrying and continuing the family line.

He turned to look at Tao Hua.  He knew what his men were saying behind his back – "Zong Yi is walking in _tao hua yun_".  He smiled at that thought.  Indeed he was.  The pun on her name notwithstanding, he had led a very lonely life amongst desperate men at the frontlines.  Thus, it was truly heaven's blessing to find such a lovely, intelligent being awaiting him after the horrors of the past 5 years.

As was the custom of the time, all marriages in the higher-ranked families were arranged.  Therefore, finding a love match was really the work of providence.  Therefore, finding a love match in Tao Hua was truly his great fortune.  In the weeks following his marriage, he discovered that his wife was not only beautiful, modest and dutiful to his mother, she was spirited and intelligent, too.  Unlike many ladies of the high-ranking families, she was literate and read voraciously (Her father, Minister Zhu, had only Tao Hua and had doted on her, allowing her opportunities not often given to women.)  During those dreamy days of wedded bliss, they would discuss the finer points of scholarly essays over _wei qi_, exchange ideas through their calligraphy sessions by the lake in the Pleasure Gardens, take long walks through the Gardens in the evening, and end the day by reciting poetry over tea and wine in the moonlight.  It was a scholar's paradise, and Zong Yi after the bloody battles of the past five years, was glad that he could engage in his scholarly pursuits together with his accomplished wife.

His mother was pleased with her daughter-in-law, and unlike many households, the women got on famously with each other.  The two women were similar in temperaments, and were united in their common love for Zong Yi – for all who had eyes could see that Zong Yi's wife literally blossomed whenever her husband was in the vicinity.

One quiet evening, about a month into their marriage, Zong Yi approached his wife in the chambers, and noticed that she had a scar just below the back of her neck.  Puzzled, he asked her about it.

"Oh, X_iang Gong_, it's a very old scar.  When I was but a baby, my natural family was attacked by robbers one night.  When the robbers came into my house, and my _nai ma_ took me and ran off, but not without being viciously set upon by our attackers first.  She managed to get away from them, and I escaped death.  That scar is the only reminder of that terrible night."

At this point, she paused, and a lone tear tracked down her right cheek.  When she recovered the use of her voice, she continued, "My entire clan was massacred in that one night.  My _nai ma_ brought me to my paternal uncle's house where they took me in as their ward.  When I turned two, I was given to Minister Zhu's wife as her daughter, after her own 2 year-old daughter died of fever."  Tao Hua paused again, this time smiling at the memory of the woman who loved her well, "She renamed me Tao Hua, because Hua was also in her daughter's name."  She looked up at her husband with a smile, "My name used to be Tao Xiang."

Zong Yi turned pale.  He stared at his wife in shock and fear.

"How old are you this year?" he asked her harshly.

Tao Hua's eyes grew wide.  In all the time she'd spend with him, Zong Yi had never raised his voice with her.  She knew he had a quick temper, but never was this temper directed at her.

"I…I'm not yet 18," she trembled, confused.  What was going on?  What had she done to anger him?

Zong Yi's hands started trembling.  A quick calculation placed her exactly as a baby when he was 22, all those years ago.  He raised his trembling hands to his face and pressed his face into his hands, and started laughing harshly.

_Heaven's will!_

Heaven had prepared a beautiful wife for him, but he had tried to have her killed!  Rash, rash young man!  Bloodthirsty!  Guilty murderer!  The blood of her entire clan was on his hand!

In confusion, Tao Hua placed her hand on her husband's arm.  "What is the matter, _Xiang Gong_?  I don't understand…"

Zong Yi's violent laughter died down into furrowed eyebrows and sorrowful eyes.  "_Niang Zi_, old heaven is making sport of us.  It's all heaven's will.  Don't you understand?"

Tao Hua shook her head, uncomprehendingly.

'Ah, Zong Yi,' he asked himself, 'what had that _Xiang Shi_ said so many years ago?'

_'…only you will see a despair and loneliness unlike any other.  You are destined to suffer a desolate loneliness for three lifetimes, but in your third, you will be saved by tao hua yun.  You will be lauded by men far and wide for your scholarly brilliance.  But few will know and appreciate your sacrifice in battle.  In this lifetime, at least, you might come into a short happiness, but it is fleeting.'_

Desolate loneliness for three lifetimes?  _Fleeting_ happiness in this lifetime?

Zong Yi looked desperately at Tao Hua, "_Niang Zi, ai ren_, I…I don't know what to tell you.  My life has resembled the 18 levels of Hell until you came along.  My furlough will soon be over, and I will have to return to the frontiers.  I may not… I am afraid… No!" he turned angrily, "Men make the own destiny!" he shouted to the heavens. 

He stalked out of the chambers, robes billowing – lost in anger, guilt and confusion.

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The Imperial edict came the next morning, and General Wei Zong Yi had to prepare to engage the enemy once more.  The war with the barbarians had intensified, and he was needed once again to lead the Imperial army westward with the other Generals.

When he left his family that morning to report to the Palace, he knew in his heart that his short time of happiness was at an end.  He had gazed at his tearful young wife, and in his eyes, expressed all the love he had for her.  Maybe, in another lifetime, they'll meet again.  Maybe, if old heaven has eyes, they'll continue their scholarly discussions amidst Pleasure Gardens and lakes.  Charging his _Niang Zi_ to take care of his _Niang_, he mounted his warhorse, and rode towards the Palace.  Towards his desolate loneliness.

He never returned to Wei Manor, to his mother, wife and son.

TBC.

**Glossary:**

_xuan na_ – Shrill trumpet-like instrument.__

_mei po_ – Matchmaker Lady.  She conducts the wedding ceremony.

Jin Hong – Gold Red

Zong Yi – Loyal Righteous

Tao Hua – Peach Blossom

_Xiang Gong_ – term of endearment used by wife when speaking to her husband

_Niang Zi_ – term of endearment used by husband when speaking to his wife

_nai ma_ – literally "milk mother" or wet nurse

_tao hua yun_ – peach blossom fortune (or lucky in love)

_wei qi_ – a strategic game (akin to chess) played with black and white seeds on a chequered board

ai ren - lover

_Xiang Shi_ – Fortune Teller

**A/N:  This part of the story was based on an actual Chinese folk story wherein a man tried to go against his destiny by killing a baby girl after a fortune teller told him that he would end up marrying her.  Naturally, the story continues that his attempt at killing her failed.  In 18 years' time, the man marries a young bride.  On their wedding night, he discovers that the girl has a scar that she received when the man who tried to kill her failed in his attempt.  The bride, of course is that girl.  The title of the folk story is "The Child Bride".  I don't know where to access this story anymore; I read it a very long, long time ago in primary school.  The story just returned to me when I thought about the SS/HG ship. **

Did you recognise all the characters in HP?  One chocolate frog for each correct character detected!

Lady Jin Hong – McGonagall 

Gold Red: Gryffindor colours, of course!  In Chapter 2, we see that she gets on famously with her daughter-in-law.  I had initially wanted her character to have feline inspired names or features.  Unfortunately, naming your children _Ah Mao_ (cat) is what low-birth peasants would do.

CynthiaWeasley suggested that Lady Jin Hong was Molly Weasley.  I must confess that the thought did not occur to me – but yes, Lady Jin Hong was modelled on the quintessential loving mother figure, and could very well be Molly (if Red referred to the Weasley hair, and Gold to her heart).  So if any of you thought of Molly, have a chocolate frog too!

Wei Zong Yi – Severus 

Snape's honour is reflected in his name – Zong for loyal/faithful and Yi for righteous/steadfast.  Also, it is hinted in his background of a scholar/warrior.

Feng Ling – Fawkes 

Phoenix Bells: Ok. That's a stretch, but I most upper class families would name their females, _Feng_.  The mythical phoenix is usually a motif for females, while the dragon is for males.  That's a free chocolate frog for the fun of it!

**_Xiang Shi_/Old Man – Dumbledore!**

Most reviewer got this character right – the snowy beard, the twinkling eyes, the omniscience – Dumbledore through and through!  Double chocolate frogs for you!

Tao Xiang/Tao Hua – Hermione 

Does 'annoying girl' in Chapter 1 ring a bell?  I could only further develop her "inner-Hermione" in Chapter 2.

Madam Chen – Pansy 

Effectively the shrewish character I was going for, and so far only pk got this right!

Um. No, the Emperor is not Voldemort, no matter how much He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named claim otherwise. heh.

I decided to play the arranged marriage card because it is more realistic.  In feudal China, upper class women do not even step out of the house – only on feast days, and heavily chaperoned.  Very rarely would betrothed couples even have a glimpse of the other before the wedding night.  The courtly Regency era of Pride and Prejudice will be considered open, liberal and scandalous by the feudal Chinese of that time period.  Husbands and wives do not even touch each other in public, much less link arms.

The description of the wedding is what I call a "telly-movie" version of a Chinese wedding.  I am familiar with various customs surrounding a traditional Chinese wedding, but the truth is, the various customs vary a great deal from different dialect groups, rank, as well as time period.  Modern Chinese weddings do not last as long nor are they as elaborate.

In which time and place will our protagonists meet up next?  Tune in to find out!


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **The characters from the Harry Potter universe in this story remain the property of JKR.

Child Bride 

Chapter 3

The loud rapping on the front door interrupted Megan's morning chores. She made sure that Wyatt was secured in his high chair quietly eating his gruel as she peered through the front windows to see who her visitor was.

A man in the officer's uniform of the United States Army stood on the veranda outside the door. He was tall, dark-haired, and when he turned towards her visage at the window, she saw a questioning pair of brilliant green eyes.

"Miss Greenfield? Miss Megan Greenfield?" asked his warm baritone.

Meg hesitated before opening the door to the soldier. "It's Mrs Reuben Wessex now."

The soldier nodded in acknowledgement.

In truth, Megan did not know what this unexpected visit was about. Unlike the Jamesons next door, she had no men folk in the Union Army. Her son was still a toddler, and her husband did not enlist in the war. Her brothers have all moved up north to find their fortune, and the last she'd heard from them, they had not participated in the war. In fact, the only person she knew that had enlisted in the Union Army was – no. No, it cannot be.

Megan's dark brown eyes grew wide as the realisation dawned on her.

The blue clad officer read all the emotions that played on her face, and knew that he had found the right person.

"Please, do come in."

Sitting in the warm, sun-kissed kitchen, next to a red-haired cherub of a boy, 1st Lieutenant Harold Porter played nervously with the now empty teacup in front of him. It was a surreal feeling sitting in such a peaceful idyllic setting, having to be the bearer of bad news. And when the news he bore was that of someone to whom he had owed a life-debt to…well…

Fortifying himself with a bracing breath, Lieutenant Porter reached into his satchel and withdrew two leather-bound journals and placed them on the table. His forefinger tapped a silent tattoo over the top book, before he pushed it across the table to her.

"He wanted you to have these."

With trembling hands, Meg reached out to the books, and on opening the cover of the top book, traced the familiar handwriting with shaky fingers.

"How?"

He almost didn't hear that whisper – it was like an exhalation of breath.

"At Petersburg, Virginia. He was a hero." She had flinched at his use of the past tense. "I owe my life to him."

Meg bit her lips, while her eyes reddened. She blinked rapidly to stem the tide of tears that threatened to fall.

_No. Not her Sam. Not him._

Lieutenant Porter's heart went out to the young woman. He'd rather face a whole platoon of Confederate soldiers with only his bayonet than to do this. It never gets easier, no matter how many times he did this, he thought solemnly.

Whilst allowing the woman to regain her composure, his mind recalled the severe and taciturn schoolteacher he had gotten to know when they had both been mustered for service to the Army of the Potomac, in Wilmington on August 14th, 1862. They had both been assigned to the 4th Regiment of the Delaware Infantry Volunteers, where living and drilling together, the charismatic Porter had discovered that Samuel Sullivan's aloof behaviour was not because of pride, but because of his naturally quiet demeanour. Harry had tried to engage the quiet man in some of the camp's rather rowdy evening amusement, but his discomfort in a crowd was clear, and for a long time, Sam remained quite alone. One night, after an introspective heart-to-heart involving moonshine brought in by one of the men, a drunken Sam had charged Harry to deliver his journals to a Miss Megan Greenfield in New Castle County, if he should ever fall to the Rebs. Unlike Porter who had his wife and children waiting for him back at his orchard, Sam was an orphan and had no family who would think of him. Miss Greenfield was a childhood friend, and was his student for a time in his schoolhouse in the County. Thus, when Sam took the fatal blow meant for Harry at Petersburg, Harry had risked it all to retrieve the two journals in order to fulfil his life debt to Sam.

_August 21st, 1862_

_My Child Bride,_

I doubt that this journal will ever survive this oncoming war, nor would your dark eyes ever see the words written here, but I like to think that one day, God willing, you might find the truth contained within this book, and know of the things I have not the courage to tell you.

"Child Bride…" she whispered. Sam had used to teased her with that silly pet name when they were children, calling her his "Child Bride", and sometimes shortening it to "Child" in the presence of company. It had been many long years since he'd last called her that.

_I know you are now quite upset with me for leaving without saying goodbye, but I was angry and confused. Angry men are not known to be thinking men, and I am no different. Now that the reality of what I've done in mustering up for this war has hit home, I suppose that the whole idea of returning to New Castle to explain myself any further is moot. Likewise, it would not serve any purpose in writing to you about why I ran away; as it would merely further muddy this sad business. No. It is better that I keep my reasons in this book for posterity, and one day, far into the future, when all is said and done, I might be able to look back on this poor decision I'd made with some equanimity._

_September 1st, 1862_

_Dear Meg,_

Apart from daily drill, there is little news about when we will engage in a battle with the Rebels. Time moves strangely here. We spend a great deal of time preparing for battle, but there are still large pockets of time left to kill. The men spend their evenings in music – we have a fairly accomplished musician in young Lee Clements, who never fails to have a ready "Aura Lee" on his fife, attempting to lift the spirits of the men on nights such as this. As for myself, I find my companionship with Melville, Irving, Hawthorne and Poe, as you would already have expected.

Her tears streamed down at his first entries, and she shook her head. Just like Sam to make light of a difficult situation. Since the Delaware Infantry men were mustered out in June that year, she'd known about the hardships the men had to face in the early days of the war. The cramp living conditions, the harsh environment in sleeping in tents, at times the lack of food… Spending time with his books indeed, she snorted, just like the teacher he'd been.

Meg had known Sam all her life. Her earliest memories were playing with Sam and her friends in the peach orchard after school was over. Sam was the oldest child in the group, whereas she was the youngest. At 5 years old, she would beg her mother to let her join her older brothers after their lessons were over to play by the river. Sam, at 12 years, would always keep a close watch over all the younger children, especially those from the orphanage, like him.

Sam was a brilliant student, even old Mrs Tate, the schoolmistress said so, and she had allowed the young boy to read to the younger children in the school. When Sam turned 16, Mrs Tate had taken him in as her teaching assistant, intending for him to take over her duties when she retired, two years later. Thus, when she turned 11, her childhood playmate became her schoolteacher, Mr. Sullivan.

For five years, Mr. Sullivan taught her the three 'Rs, as well as Geography and History, and had introduced her into the world of books. He was an extremely strict teacher, and would have little tolerance for high jinks in class. Many of his students who had been his childhood friends soon found out that Sam and Mr. Sullivan were as different as Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde; and these selfsame friends could not understand the why their Sam was so unreasonably strict in school and thus avoided him at their social gatherings. A few, like Meg were able to reconcile the difference between the somewhat shy Sam and the strict Mr. Sullivan, and were able to continue their friendship after lessons were over.

Meg recalled that particular morning in August, when she'd gone to the schoolhouse only to find that Sam had gone to Wilmington to enlist in the Union Army. She was upset and distraught to find her good friend gone without a word. He had never indicated in any way that he felt so strongly about the issue of the secession of the South, not even in the year before when he had voted for Delaware to remain in the Union.

Wyatt Wessex cried for his mother's attention. At 2 years, the little one had no idea why his mother wasn't paying attention to him. Putting the journals in a safe place, Megan got up to prepare dinner, for Reuben will be home soon.

_November 26th, 1862_

_Well, happy birthday to you, my Child Bride. You're 18 today and how I wish we could meet as we used to by the river. I still remember your 11th birthday – you weren't sure if I remembered our custom or if I'll still meet you there since I became your teacher. Truth be told, I was unsure myself. However, I couldn't very well let my Child Bride remain standing all by herself beside the river, now could I?_

_Meg, I've been such a fool. I've got your 18th birthday present ready for the past year, but I dare not give it to you earlier. Do you have any idea how terrible the last 3 months were? When I overheard Reuben telling McKenzie that you've accepted his proposal, I could not think straight. I still cannot reconcile it. Did you really not know my heart?_

_I guess everything is moot now. You would be Mrs Reuben Wessex come December._

Megan, grim-faced and chewing her bottom lips, flipped through the journal entries. Most entries were little anecdotes about daily camp life, interesting observations in his usual droll humour. But there was always that undercurrent of loneliness and sadness that occasionally reared its head. Meg, knowing Sam like she did, could easily read between the lines.

"It's not fair, Sam," she whispered angrily, sorrowfully, mixed emotions colouring her eyes and nose a botchy red, melancholic tears streaming down her face. "You're gone, and all I have left of you are your words. They hurt, Sam. You should have told me, Sam. You should have told me before leaving me – you didn't know half of what happened."

Meg remembered that day again in her mind's eye, as she looked out her kitchen window at the verdant orchard outside. When she had gone to the schoolhouse and found her dear friend missing, she had immediately thought that he had left because he felt strongly about the war, and abandoning her behind. She had sought him out for advice – Reuben had proposed, but she had asked for time in order to consult her best friend. She was called away by her duties at the orphanage, and by the time she went to the schoolhouse, Sam was gone.

For months, she waited for news of Sam, but to no avail – it was as if he dropped off the face of the earth. She feared for his well-being, but with no written communication, she allowed herself to believe that Sam had left for good. During that time, Reuben was most comforting and attentive, and during the spring of the following year, she accepted Reuben's proposal and married married.

_March 29th, 1863_

_It's spring, Meg, and we are now encamped by a peach orchard. The worst of winter is over and the peach trees are blossoming again. Even at night, the heavy sweet scent of the peach blossoms is pervasive; it has even invaded my dreams._

_I had a dream about you last night, walking down the aisle, dressed beautifully in your wedding dress. You had peach blossoms arrayed in your hair._

_It reminded me of those glorious spring days so long ago, playing behind the schoolhouse beneath the peach blossoms. Do you remember those days?_

_My favourite memory was that spring when you were a sweet, bullying 6 year-old. You had just attended your first wedding at St. Matthew's, and filled with childlike enthusiasm decided that you too, wanted to get married. For the next few days, you bullied and pestered the other children to play pretend. You orchestrated the entire event – seating our friends beneath the trees; appointing Tom as Parson, Charlotte as mother of the bride, and Horace as your father. Any you chose me to marry you. There were other boys there, but you insisted on Sam, because you said that there was none other that you could marry._

_That spring morning, scented like today, you were my Child Bride, peach blossoms in your curly brown hair, clutching a posy of wild flowers, walking down a pretend aisle on Horace's arms, to meet me. We said our simple vows, Tom pronounced us married, and you looked so adorably shocked when you realised that I had to kiss my bride._

_I remember I had feigned irritation at the time – my 13 year-old self, bullied into submission by your pretty 6 year-old self, and had even called you 'annoying girl'. But the truth was that I was secretly pleased that you chose me above all others._

_For up till then, no one had ever chosen me on their own accord._

_I remained behind at the orphanage because no one ever wanted me for long. My parents – no one knew who they were – they'd abandoned me. I was a sickly child, and more than one couple gave up looking after me. My weak health meant that I was always picked last at games, and finally when I grew older, and therefore wiser, I chose not to participate in games, but often stood apart as spectator._

_I suppose in my juvenile mind, that day when you chose me, I allowed myself fanciful ideas about what I meant to you. I teased you mercilessly, calling you my Child Bride even when you stamped your feet and pouted that it was a silly nickname. Meg, privately, I still think of you as that – my dearest Child Bride. Do not blame me, Meg, you were my only constant friend; you understood me when others did not even try._

_I have never had the courage to tell you what I felt whenever we met by the river, during our little chats about the books we've read or the local gossips. I had believed that you knew my secret heart – how wrong I was! Meg, you must know I love you!_

_I suppose I've never considered that you only loved me as a friend; perhaps you'd even pitied my pathetic existence – it would not be difficult to believe. After all, you are the most compassionate person in all of New County, as the other orphans at St. Matthew's would attest. I knew that you had many admirers amongst our peers, and during the peach blossom time last year, I had decided to propose marriage to you on your 18th birthday, when we would meet by the river once more. Therefore, when I heard that you've accepted Wessex's marriage proposal, I felt the need to leave New County for a while._

_The opportunity that Mr. Lincoln gave me to take up arms for a cause close to my heart was timely. I felt that taking up arms to make sure that our nation remain strong and united, would be a good way to overcome the grief of a broken heart. The experience away from the environs that bore your presence would enable me to forget what we had. The company of heroes I keep would help me see that there were greater things at stake in our lifetime than secret desires of the heart. I can honestly say that I do not think about 'what ifs' as much as I used to._

If I should fall in this war, Meg, I would like to think that my death would mean a better future for you and your children. If I should ever survive this war, I don't know if I would survive; I don't know if there were anything I'd look forward to beyond this. Perhaps when this is over, I would go back to New County and resume teaching. I would look you up – be your friend Sam, once again.

_I think I can live with that._

**A/N1:** The 'Siege of Petersburg' where Samuel Sullivan fell started on 15 June 1864 and ended on 2 April 1865. That last journal entry we read, was followed by bits and pieces of "little anecdotes about daily camp life, interesting observations in his usual droll humour" for the next year and a half. Sam was uncharacteristic in his journaling on 26th March, due to a light drinking session with Porter. Sam debated tearing out that particular entry from his journal, but left it there to remind himself that he should have been honest with Megan about his feelings. He did not expect that he would not survive the war.

**A/N2:** I did a Net search on Peach Blossoms and found to my surprise that the Peach Blossom was the national flower of Delaware. See? Fanfic-writing can be an educational experience. wink

Inspired by the polar opposite to the Chinese theme, I researched further into the American Civil War. The war backdrop was just the thing I needed for the story, as I wanted the allusion to the war backdrop back at Hogwarts.

Unlike the Chinese inspired portion which needed little research (just a few unfamiliar idioms and words), this portion required more reading as I'm not very familiar with the nuances of the 19th Century American culture. Therefore, I tried to avoid having much interaction in the characters, so I reverted to journal entries. I figured this was better in story-telling. I suppose that what we write and what we say is slightly different, and the written form is less likely to be seen as stylistically untrue to the "voice". Also, I want to get the research right, because the American Civil war is something that occurred in real history, and poor research will result in not only insulting the readers, but will make the event less than what it was.

I'd like to thank sunshine0202002 for help in pinpointing the months the final journal entry was likely to take place.

I hope you will review this part, with the view of whether the research was worth it. Thanks!

For those interested, these are very interesting short readings about the Civil War


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **The characters from the Harry Potter universe in this story remain the property of JKR.

Child Bride 

Chapter 4

A blur of unconnected images raced through his mind's eye: swathes of red cloth… a dark blue uniform… peach blossoms… a serene lake… a moving stream… unending yellow sand of a hot arid desert…

Hollow bits of strange sounds and languages accompanied the strobe effects of these images echoed in his semi-consciousness: the soft whizzes of arrows launched into the air and loud clanging of iron against iron, juxtaposing with the unmistakable sounds of musket and canon fires, in an all-encompassing background of screams…

People he knew – at _least_ they looked familiar to him – crossing his path; could that really be Dumbledore with black eyes? The Porter Who Lived? The Wessex who stole _her_ from him? Meg? Peach Fragrance?

Peach Fragrance? Was that the scent assaulting his sense of smell? His senses were reeling. He could still smell the heavy metallic pungent stink of blood and sweat and tears in the nether reaches of his mind; the primal smell that he associated with his deep utter desolate loneliness…

And there it was again – the scent of peach blossoms; harkening to days in the presence of one who comforted him, who brought laughter instead of tears, who allowed him to soar, to fly like the birds in their V-formation in azure blue skies.

He groaned.

He could feel his own laboured intake of air, and yes – that unmistakable overwhelming scent of peach blossoms.

In his semi-conscious state, he briefly considered the riot of impressions he experienced. Were those impressions real? Did they occur in his past lives? Or were they just his reality transformed into strange unfamiliar scenes by his overactive subconscious? Did one's consciousness survive multiple lifetimes, or was there only this lifetime he had to live – and consequently had to live it well?

'Too philosophical by half!' he mocked himself internally. He did not know – it was not a topic he spent much time pondering.

'Who…Where am I?' and he almost snorted at that other question that have plagued philosophers through the ages.

'The War. Voldemort.'

Another groan. This time loud enough that there was someone else where he was that responded to him.

"He's coming around!" an excited and relieved whisper. "Headmaster, he's waking up!"

Severus Snape tried to wet his dry lips with his parched mouth; "water…" was all he could indicate before unknown hands gently propped him up and a goblet of water was placed at his lips.

"Harry—" he croaked out. "He's—"

"He's fine, Severus," a gentle voice soothed him. "Ron managed to portkey both of you out in time."

"Headmaster, now that Severus has regained consciousness, I need to give him the dreamless sleep. If I could—?" a woman's voice, not Pomfrey… but a familiar contralto.

"Of course, my dear. Severus, rest well and worry not – the war is over."

A sip of chamomile scented water later, and Severus slipped into a welcome darkness.

-------)

A warm cloak suddenly enveloped him.

The past two weeks were lost in a blur of celebratory dinners, speeches and confusing confounding congratulatory messages from students, staff and strangers alike.

He could not quite remember what happened in the period when he just came back from Voldemort's lair. He distinctly remembered a sense of déjà vu when he locked eyes with a brilliant green pair, as the two of them stood side-by-side in the dark corridors of Riddle House, prepared to charge into battle.

"A knut for your thoughts?" she asked, as she stood behind him, looking out towards the lake.

The war against the Dark had come to a crux with the abduction of Rachel Abbot, a 1st Year Ravenclaw, and cousin to the Hufflepuff Abbots. When the nefarious designs on the 11 year-old was revealed to the Order by way of an intercepted code, Dumbledore knew that he had to put his best duellers on the offensive against Voldemort, before the dark Child Bride Ritual took place. For if it did, Voldemort will not only regain his full magical powers; not only will Rachel's life be forfeited; Dumbledore and his Order will not have the means to overcome that great evil.

Therefore, a dozen Phoenixes Apparated together with Severus into the woods near the Riddle House, and hiked the rest of the journey under the cover of darkness. They managed to circumvent the wards undetected with a strong Potion-Charm concoction that Professors Granger, Flitwick and Severus had devised, and had caught the Death Eaters unaware in their own den. They had easily dispatched most of the Death Eaters with no casualty on the Phoenix's side, but then they realised that the stronger and better fighters were all missing from their Dark headquarters.

Using a location charm, Rupert Abbot managed to pinpoint the whereabouts of his youngest sister and the twelve had hurried to the hidden chambers where the Child Bride ritual was taking place. Just when Virginia Weasley broke through the chamber's ward, all hell broke loose.

In that melee, Severus and Harry had managed to enter into a corridor whilst the other Phoenixes dealt with the elite of Voldemort's army. With hexes and curses flying like fireworks on Guy Fawkes night, the duo were able to spirit away to where Voldemort held the tiny girl spinning in mid-air.

Instinctively, Severus hurried to aid the girl, while Harry confronted Voldemort. Just as Severus managed to get the girl onto terra firma into the arms of her brother who portkeyed her to Hogwarts' Infirmary, Harry's scream of fury turned Severus to the more perilous task of fighting his ex-Master. With twin shouts of Avada Kedavra by the two Phoenixes, Voldemort's cry rang explosively through out the Riddle House. The magic that was woven into the House became unstable and the beams of the mansion started tearing apart. A large piece of detritus knocked Harry unconscious just as Severus managed to push him out of direct head impact. Severus tried to activate his portkey, but before he was successful, he succumbed to a numbing unconsciousness wrought by falling debris.

"I was wondering about the scent of peach blossoms that lingered when I awoke," he said, turning to the brunette behind him.

Her eyes twinkled mischievously. "My own concoction. A peach blossom based potion. Actually, it was Dumbledore who pointed out that the peach blossom was believed by the Chinese to bring blessings of sorts, but I can't remember exactly what it was. I did some tests on the blossom's extract, and found that it had very good magical healing properties – much better than our standard ones."

Severus nodded, his amusement at her pride in her own creation colouring his eyes.

"Anyway, you shouldn't be out here by yourself," she chided him. "It's cold out, and you are still recovering—"

"Hermione—"

"…I won't have you survive Voldemort and only to have you succumb to pneumonia—"

"Hermione—"

"…what with Madam Pomfrey on my back about helping her with the other casualties—"

He stepped towards her, grabbed her upper arms and swooped down onto her lips, both effectively shutting her up and getting her attention.

Her eyes widened as she stiffened in surprise at the uncharacteristic impulsive streak displayed by her usually taciturn colleague. But sensing him retreating from her lips, she possessively grabbed the back of his head restricting his movement. Her eyes closed as she deepened the kiss, feeling his arms coming around her back and waist, holding her up against his front.

She moaned in pleasure. In delight. In relief.

She could feel hot tears wetting her cheeks, but they did not come from her own dry eyes. They broke the kiss after what seemed like eternity, to take in much needed air, leaning their foreheads together, not wanting to break that physical bond now that they've broken through the barrier.

"Hermione," he breathed, in that warm silky tone she loved and dreamt of, "now that I've got your attention—"

She giggled in reply.

His eyes grew warm at her girlish giggle, but turned serious, as he sighed, "Marry me."

Hermione blinked in confusion and she frowned.

'Wha—?' her mind refused to work.

His proposal of marriage would not be surprising if they were already involved in a relationship.

But they weren't – at least, not in the traditional sense of the word.

They were working colleagues and have been now for the past five years. Before that, she was his student – one of his best, who had gone on to the University and returned to Hogwarts to teach Arithmancy. During the past year, they had spent much time working together on the Potion-Charm with Flitwick, in order to overcome Voldemort's wards.

True, their had spent some down-time in between work together, but they were hardly what anyone thought of as romantic. They had had dinners together in his quarters, in the Potions lab, even in her quarters, but they were usually work-related, hectic refuelling of the body, while researching obscure literature; rather than the idyllic dalliance that couples indulged in.

And they were not a couple.

They haven't even kissed!

'Well, not counting this one,' she thought wryly, as she looked into his warm gaze and kiss swollen lips, 'but I could get used to this.'

She looked into his black eyes, which were scrutinising her thoughts in hope, and she lowered her hands so that it rested on his chest.

"Severus," she spoke to his chest and moved her head up to look into his eyes, "Why?"

"Because I can have a future now, Hermione," he whispered almost inaudibly. "Before, I can't – I can't give either of us false hopes." Fresh tears traced his still too-thin cheeks. "Because this past year, working on the project, I realised that I've fallen in love with you and that without you beside me, my future's bleak – an utter desolate loneliness." He took a bracing breath, "I love you Hermione. And call me selfish, but you, your brilliance, your kindness – I…" he faltered, and continued almost fiercely, "I will _not_ lose you to another because I dare not ask for what I want." He softened his tone, "And I want you."

Her breath caught in her throat at his intense declaration.

All her life, Hermione wanted what the French called a _grande passion_, someone who would enter her life, love her with a great passion and sweep her off her feet. In her friendship with Harry and Ron, she discovered a brotherly love that comforted and supported her in her times of need. They were her mates, but they could not relieve that ache in her heart or that loneliness she felt when her friends found lovers, which naturally excluded her presence. From Viktor, her first romantic attachment in her 4th Year at school, she found that she had qualities that appealed to the opposite sex that transcended merely looking good. From him, she discovered that she had worth. From the few romantic attachments she had after that, she found that being in love was like cotton candy, all light, fluffy and sweet. One of them – Crispin, taught her that sometimes men pursue women because they can, and when the chase was done, the fun was over; and they then look for another prey.

But none of her romantic attachments ever proposed marriage to her.

They all said they loved her, but none wanted her for life.

Except for this dark, brooding, and unloved man – who had never promised sweet nothings to her, who had never complimented her dressing, who had never given her to think that he ever felt more than what friendly work mates felt for each other – this man wanted her. With a passion.

Oh, but they always had that tension, even whilst working frantically to come up with that potion. That "what if" – what if there was no work involved; what if there was no Voldemort; what if it were just Severus and Hermione – would they? Could they?

But, like Severus said, those were dark times – and it was unwise for either of them to embark on a relationship when one of them could be left behind to mourn the other. But that argument is moot now – Voldemort has been defeated for two weeks. Could they now? Would they?

But marriage? Marriage was a huge step from workmates to life partners.

Was this a cry of loneliness from him? An avoidance of loneliness? That he chose her because she was convenient? Could his passion for her die down without that frantic "live today, for there may be no tomorrow" mantra they'd live with the past year?

Did she even love him?

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat, "Severus—"

His forefinger rested on her lips, stopping her answer.

"Hermione, you do not have to answer me today. I need for you to know my intentions. I want to marry you, love. I understand if you need time to think this through. You may be a Gryffindor," he smiled, "but unlike the rest of your House, you have the sense to consider the consequences of your decisions. Take your time to decide, love. I've waited this lifetime, and I can wait until you've reach your decision."

"Severus," was all she could say to him, smiling a smile of gratitude.

She tilted her head up and kissed his lips languidly as her hands snaked up into his long raven hair, tasting him, loving him. She would take time to rediscover this man without that backdrop of darkness and malevolence. And she would make her decision.

**A/N:** I had great fun writing this portion of the story. I think the Chinese sequence and this last chapter were inspired. It was just flowing. The middle story was much more difficult to write. sigh

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story. Oh if you follow Xiang Shi's foretelling, you'd know how the story ended; Severus is saved by _tao hua yun_ – both the peach blossom based potion and Love of A Good Woman. I'm happy to report that they spend their married days in scholarly pursuits, wizard chess, walks in Hogwarts' gardens, poetry and wine in the moonlight by the Lake…


End file.
